


to want, to love, to need

by lovereddie



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Fingering, Frottage, M/M, Smut, also they start grinding because they accidentally make each other hard while cuddling, but also they are in love, its cute, so like thats cool, they grind and eddie fingers richie and thats about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-07 22:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17374568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovereddie/pseuds/lovereddie
Summary: Neither of them ever considered what the cuddling could lead to. At least, not until it already leads to something else – something bigger. Something they never thought would happen but would never even dream of stopping.





	to want, to love, to need

**Author's Note:**

> ive been reading reddie fics for so long that i finally gave in and wrote one

It’s an unintentional development, the two of them. Neither can really pinpoint when the changes occurred, when the playful shoves turned into warm hands on upper arms, when the annoyed scoffs turned into scrunched noses paired with fond stares. The whole thing… it shifted, their friendship. Somehow, without either of them realizing it, the two of them became something softer, more intimate. They’re still best friends, they still shoot the shit at each other daily, that hasn’t changed one bit, but then they get older, moving into their college dorms, then moving into an apartment they share with each other, and then finding their own apartments in the same building because they want to be close to each other but are tired of people sneering at them about how _having a roommate is a little immature, don’t you think?_ And it isn’t immature, Richie protests, and it’s not weird, Eddie insists, but they still find a building with two available places, if only to shut everyone else up. If anything, it just becomes a situation where they still basically live together, only they have two apartments to live in.

But that means that sleepovers are a thing again, even though they’re twenty-five and probably shouldn’t call them sleepovers. That’s what they feel like, though, when Richie passes out on the floor of Eddie’s living room at two in the morning, or when Eddie laughs so hard he chokes on his popcorn in the darkness of Richie’s bedroom hours after they said they should probably go to sleep since they both work the following morning. It’s nice, feeling like teens again, when Richie would sneak into Eddie’s room or Eddie would lie to his mother and stay at Richie’s house. They’re not old now, not by any means, but spending their nights like this makes them feel lighter, warmer, closer.

The cuddling is somewhat of a new thing, though. Growing up, they were always affectionate – their entire friend group was, and still is to this day. Eddie has fallen asleep on Ben’s shoulder hundreds of times, and Richie can’t count how often he’s taken a nap with his head in Stan’s lap or on Mike’s chest. So it shouldn’t be weird, the day they wake up tangled together on Eddie’s bed, because it’s not the first time it’s happened, really, but it feels different than what they’ve done in the past. Because, back then, it was just using each other as pillows, finding comfort in their warmth, but the kind of cuddling they wake up to is… _more._ It’s intertwining their bodies so much that it’s hard to tell where one person ends and the other begins. They are molded together, feeling complete, feeling whole. The first time it happens, they don’t know what to say, until Eddie’s stomach rumbles so loud that it breaks the tension and they giggle to each other before getting up to make breakfast. And it’s fine, really, once the initial shock of it wears off. The only thing that changes is that, at the end of the night, when they’re too tired to shoot the shit anymore, Eddie will intentionally wrap himself around Richie, or Richie will roll over and press his back to Eddie’s chest. Something similar to that, one of them making the first move to curl into the other, until they both feel warm and fuzzy in a way they choose not to fully acknowledge, and they fall asleep with small smiles and noses pressed to spines and ankles linked and a slight redness on the curves of their cheeks.

Neither of them ever considered what the cuddling could lead to. At least, not until it already leads to something else – something bigger. Something they never thought would happen but would never even dream of stopping.

It’s barely morning, the sun just now rising above the horizon and shining into Eddie’s room with a nice, orange glow. The light isn’t bright enough to awaken them fully, but it’s enough to draw them into slight consciousness, making Eddie release a slight puff of air and Richie crinkle his nose while he tightens his grip on Eddie’s waist. They had fallen asleep close, clutching onto each other, and as the night went on, it ended up like this – with Eddie, who usually winds up being the big spoon due to Richie’s helpless need to be held most nights, pressed to Richie’s chest and Richie burying his face in Eddie’s hair. Not ready to get out of bed (it is a Saturday, after all – neither of them have shifts to cover at work, and had fallen blissfully asleep last night with the knowledge that there would be no alarm to wake them up), Eddie shuffles slightly, trying to get more comfortable but not awake enough to really adjust anything about his position fully. Satisfied, he releases a slow breath and begins to lull back into a deeper sleep, unaware of what the simple wiggle of his hips had done to the man pressed against him.

Richie, had he been awake, would have turned a deep red and immediately detangled the two of them to prevent any awkwardness from happening later on. But he isn’t awake, and all he does when he feels the slight pressure against his groin is release the tiniest of pleased noises and subconsciously shift closer to it. His mind is empty, the effects of a dreamless sleep, but his body is reacting either way, seeking more friction, causing him to repeatedly roll his hips forward in the smallest of increments, just enough to start to rile him up, hardening dick pressing uncomfortably against the inside of his boxers. Eddie sighs slightly, a content sound, and his own mind begins to fill in the spaces of what he is feeling, his dreams conjuring up images of bare bodies and sweat-slicked skin. With these images in his mind, he pushes back against Richie, his own body wanting more contact, and the action punches out another quiet, involuntary noise past Richie’s slightly parted lips. Though not yet conscious, Richie starts grinding against Eddie more earnestly, his arm around Eddie’s waist pulling them impossibly closer, his head ducking down slightly to breath against the back of Eddie’s neck in sleepy pants of warm air.

That is what officially draws Eddie out of his dreams, the feeling of Richie’s breath brushing against his skin in hot clouds of air. He stops pushing back against Richie and blinks his eyes open slowly, confused, until Richie continues to rub against the swell of his ass, and his own breath gets caught in his throat. Frozen, unsure of what to do, Eddie tries to rationalize the situation in his head, but his thoughts are still muddled with sleep, and his dick is definitely thickening in his shorts, and when Richie rolls forward once again, he is helpless to do anything other than release a sound of want, not yet a moan, but close, breathy and low and unexpected. He pushes back against Richie again, but it isn’t enough, and he doesn’t stop to think about his actions before he turns around until they’re laying face-to-face, jostling Richie slightly in the process.

Stilling completely, Richie begins to stir, brows pinching together and nose scrunching up on his face. Slowly, his eyes flutter open, slightly squinted from the sunlight and the fact that his glasses are on the nightstand, and he looks down at Eddie with a tired confusion. “Eds?”

“Mhm,” is all Eddie can get out, his own eyes wide and timid, because their fronts are pressed flush together, and he can feel the fact that Richie is still turned on, even if he is not yet aware of it. He does not move, unsure of what to do, and he waits for Richie to piece together the position they’re in.

“Wh…” Richie trails off with a soft yawn, blinking a few times to clear the tired haze from his mind and focus more on where he is, on the situation he’s in. He can see the glint of something unfamiliar in Eddie’s gaze, which immediately draws on concern, worried that it may be something bad. A nightmare, perhaps, though neither of them have had nightmares in years. Still, he runs on instinct, doing what he always does when offering Eddie comfort, which is use his grip on Eddie’s waist to pull him in closer, intending to be gentle and kind and ask what’s wrong. The question dies on his tongue, though, as pulling Eddie in results in their hips grinding together slightly, and Richie realizes, in a flash of _holy fucking shit,_ that he’s got a hard on pressed against his best friend. Even more then that, his best friend has a hard on pressed against him. Swallowing roughly, he drags his gaze up, looking at the wall for a moment, and then looks back down, finding that Eddie is still staring at him. “Eddie…?”

Though his eyes reflect uncertainty, Eddie’s next action is precise, the way his hips canteen up, back arching just enough to apply even more pressure between them, drawing out a gurgled sound of surprise and pleasure from the back of Richie’s throat. He stills there, looking at Richie questioningly, giving him the chance to move away, to end this entirely. They could just laugh it off and pretend it never happened, and everything would be just fine. And this moment of silence is Richie’s chance to do just that, if that is what he wants to do. Eddie will go along with it without question.

After only a slight moment of consideration, Richie makes his decision, once again ducking his head in order to bury his face in Eddie’s neck, lips brushing against soft skin as he digs his fingers into Eddie’s hip and quietly whispers, _“Please.”_

And that’s all that Eddie needs to hear before he pushes off the mattress and rolls Richie onto his back before getting on top of him, planting his elbows on either side of his head. “You sure?”

“Jesus,” Richie breathes, staring at Eddie with wide, unblinking eyes, his back arching off the mattress in an attempt to feel more friction, wanting to relieve the aching in his groin. Eddie doesn’t indulge him, though, looking at him expectantly, waiting for a proper response. With something hot and fizzy bubbling in his lower abdomen, Richie nods, saying, “Yes, _yes,_ I’m sure- Eds, _please—”_

Without waiting another moment, Eddie grinds his hips down with intent, eyelids fluttering at the relief that floods through his veins at the feeling. He quickly forces his eyes back open at the noise Richie makes, sounding punched out and strangled and hot, really fucking hot, and he looks even hotter, eyes fluttering shut and nose scrunching up his face and lips parting around words that just won’t cooperate with him, resulting in more noises and an incoherent babbling as he pushes his hips up to get more friction, more warmth. It feels so high school, so childish and stupid, the two of them grinding together and panting into open mouths, and Eddie thinks it might be a bad idea, but he takes one look at Richie’s red bitten lips and all he can think to do is kiss him, quick and sudden and deep. Richie kisses back fervently, one hand raising to curl around the soft curve of Eddie’s jaw while the other clutches Eddie’s hip and uses that grip to gain a little bit of leverage, pulling Eddie down against him at a better angle, their dicks lining up in a delicious way.

 _“Ah,”_ Richie lets out, almost in a yelp, breaking their kiss in order release an almost humorously dramatic sounding gasp, but he tilts his head back instinctively, some kind of mewl falling from his lips, and breathes out, “Fuck, Eddie- oh, _fuck—"_

“I—" Eddie stops, shakes his head, feeling at a loss for words. Unsure of how to respond, he chooses instead to duck his head and plant feather light kisses on the soft skin of Richie’s neck, those kisses turning more urgent and open-mouthed when Richie lets out a high pitched whine of encouragement. Richie moves his hand that’s on Eddie’s jaw up to curl into his hair, knees drawing up and legs parting to allow Eddie to fall into the cradle of his hips and thighs. It feels so much _more_ like this, electricity humming beneath Eddie’s skin, and he stops planting kisses to Richie’s salty skin just long enough to groan, “Oh, _god,”_ before reattaching his lips to the juncture between Richie’s neck and shoulder, scraping his teeth over the skin there and sucking a mark that will be visible for days to follow.

And Richie becomes dazed, stars in his eyes and heart fluttering in his chest as he speeds up the roll of his hips and tugs gently on Eddie’s hair, just enough to draw his attention. “More,” he practically whimpers, breaths coming out choppy and uneven. “God, fuck, Eddie- _please,_ Eddie, _more—"_

Eddie pulls back, lips a little red and slick with spit, looking down at Richie with wide eyes, brushing some curls out of Richie’s face and blinking quickly to try and focus his mind. “More what?” he asks, unsure, slowing the pace of his movements until he’s merely circling their hips together.

“Anything,” Richie tells him breathily, eyelids fluttering so much that it’s hard to maintain eye contact, trying to canteen up into Eddie’s touch and ignoring the way tears begin to burn hot in the back of his eyes. “Faster, touch me, kiss me, I don’t care, just- _more, please.”_

“Okay,” Eddie nods, trailing his gaze down to take in their position before meeting Richie’s eyes once more. He kisses Richie again, brisk and sweet, before resting his weight on one of his arms in order to skim the fingertips of his other hand down the expanse of Richie’s side. Beneath his gentle touch, he feels Richie shiver, the action involuntary, as he releases an impatient noise, chest still heaving with every deep inhale and choppy exhale that brushes past his lips. Eddie doesn’t move any faster, though, taking his time to map out the curve of Richie’s waist, the shape of his stomach and the slope below his hips. Richie’s eyes flutter shut, breathing getting even heavier as Eddie’s touch trails down his inner thigh, so close to where he’s aching to be touched the most, and Eddie can’t help the smug feeling that bubbles within his chest when Richie releases another noise, this one more like a high pitched whine, pushing his hips up to rub against Eddie and sucking his lower lip into his mouth to clamp his teeth down on the plush skin there. “Responsive,” Eddie muses under his breath, watching the way Richie’s features contort.

Richie bites down on his lip even harder, almost breaking the skin and drawing blood, as the red hot tears that had been forming behind his eyes start to trickle down his cheeks. If his eyes were open, he’d know that Eddie is already looking at him, but he isn’t aware of that, and he tries to breathe in deeply and keep from drawing attention to himself. As soon as those tears begin to glint in the lighting of the room, however, Eddie withdraws his hand from Richie’s thigh and raises it to cup his face instead, concerned. Immediately, Richie shakes his head, tears falling faster, and canteens his hips up again, more insistent this time, trying to make his point clear without needing to say anything at all.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs, the worry already melting away as understanding dawns on him, a small smile forming on his features as he scans over Richie’s face. He takes his thumb and taps it against Richie’s lower lip, saying, “Don’t do that. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“Eddie,” Richie breathes, releasing his lower lip and pinching his brows together in some kind of frustration, sniffling lightly when Eddie starts to wipe away the tears on his cheeks. “I’m _fine,_ just- Eddie, c’mon, I’m- I can’t- I need—” he digs his fingers into Eddie’s hips and pulls him even closer with a huff, inhaling sharply at the hint of friction it provides, and airily tries again, saying, “Eds, I- I _need—”_

Without any warning, Eddie cuts him off with another kiss, this one a bit more sloppy than the others as he drops his hand back to Richie’s thigh, only now he doesn’t tease. Now, he curls his fingers around the underside of Richie’s knee and he pulls his leg up and out, not harsh enough to hurt but enough to give Eddie the leverage to circle their hips together again, this time with more precision, wanting to see Richie fall apart beneath him without having shed a single item of clothing. And it feels like there’s electricity running through his veins, making him feel more alive than he ever has before, and he watches Richie’s eyes go wide and roll back slightly, tears still trickling down his splotchy cheeks and mouth parted around incoherent babbling that rumbles helplessly from the back of his throat, and Eddie has known for perhaps his entire life that Richie Tozier is his soulmate (though he had tried for a long time to convince himself they were platonic soulmates, if only to avoid the complication of developing into something unfamiliar and scary), but this confirms it. He believes there is nothing better than this moment here, than the sight of Richie breathing heavily and arching his back. Eddie groans again, the sound involuntary and low, and ducks his head down to scrape his teeth over Richie’s neck some more, leaving behind marks that he’ll be appreciating endlessly later on, bruises to brush his fingers against and watch Richie inhale sharply at the touch. Realistically, he knows there will be some steps before that, knows that they’re gonna have to talk about this when the moment is over, but he thinks there won’t be much talking needed to confirm what’s been bubbling beneath the surface since they first met. Especially if the way Richie has been kissing him is any indication, like he’s been waiting for the chance, like he needs it more than he needs air.

Richie’s head tips back into the pillows, feels his stomach clench and his breathing stutter in his chest. “Eddie,” he breathes like a prayer, split slick lips shining as he curls his fingers into Eddie’s hair and brings his head up to kiss him deeply. It only takes a few short moments before he breaks the kiss again, but he holds Eddie there, lips brushing together as they pant into each other’s mouths, Richie’s other hand trailed around Eddie’s back and clutching at his shoulder to keep them flush together. “Eddie,” he says again, the only thing he can think to say, features crumbling into something beautifully crestfallen in the best possible way. “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Eddie—”

“I’m here,” Eddie tells him, moving his hand from Richie’s knee and suppressing a hum of approval as Richie keeps it bent up and out, just as Eddie had been holding it. Trailing the tips of his fingers across the exposed skin from Richie’s shirt riding up, he murmurs, “I’ve got you,” and maneuvers his hand around Richie’s waist until his can splay his palm against the small of Richie’s back. The action doesn’t change much, but Richie nods in encouragement, breath hitching. Eddie blinks slowly, still circling his hips as Richie bucks against him helplessly, and decides to test the waters, to see if what he’s thinking of is what Richie wants him to do. Carefully, his dips his fingers beneath the waistband of Richie’s boxers and keeps them there, pressed into the dimples at the bottom of Richie’s spine, waiting to see the reaction he’ll get, to see what Richie will do in response.

And Richie _moans,_ loud and lewd, hips pushing back into Eddie’s touch before jumping up to chase the friction of Eddie against him. “Lower,” he requests shakily, blinking up at Eddie with a hiccup and a heavy breath, nails digging into Eddie’s shoulder, fingers trembling as he scrambles for purchase against Eddie’s skin.

“I…” Eddie sucks in a sharp breath, looking at Richie with mild wonder and awe. “Are you sure? There’s no- I mean, I don’t have any- you know? So I can’t, like, properly—”

“You do,” Richie interrupts confidently, untangling his fingers from Eddie’s hair to reach over and fish around in the top drawer of Eddie’s nightstand. A moment later, he pulls his hand back out with a small bottle of lube that Eddie knows for a fact he didn’t put in there, leading Richie to shakily explain, “I’ve been stashing these in your room since we stared sharing a bed during sleepovers again. I just- I didn’t do it specifically because I was hoping this might happen, it was also just in case you ever needed any and wound up finding it, but I did have this, uh… this scenario, I guess, in mind when I put it there.”

Eddie swallows roughly, gaze flickering between Richie’s wide eyes and the offered bottle resting in his palm. Then his brain catches up with the situation, and all he can think to do is draw Richie into a filthy kiss, using his hand on Richie’s back to guide him into a sitting position so that Eddie can sit back on his haunches between Richie’s splayed out legs. When he pulls back, a string of saliva connects their lips, and he almost chokes on his words when he states, “I’m not fucking you.”

Richie falters, and he starts to actually _pout,_ lower lip jutted out as he sucks in a deep breath and prepares to protest, but Eddie kisses him again, just as open mouthed and intentional, promising more and drawing out a pleased hum from the center of Richie’s chest. Pulling back again, Eddie grins, eyes glinting.

“I’m not fucking you,” he repeats, firm and certain. “Not until after we talk about this, but I don’t want to talk right now, so that’s gonna have to wait until later. Right now, I really want to cum, and I really want to see you cum, so I’m going to finger you.” Then, to solidify his point, he takes the bottle from Richie’s hand and pops open the top, stomach swooping at the way Richie watches him move. Before coating his fingers, he ducks his head to meet Richie’s gaze again and asks, “Is that okay?”

Richie nods, scraping his teeth over his lower lip and parting his lips with an all-consuming hunger burning in his eyes. “Yeah,” he ghosts out in response, drawing his knees together to press into Eddie’s sides, thighs encompassing his hips and shuddering when Eddie presses forward to push their hips together once more, just enough to apply pressure without really relieving the need to be touched. He juts his tongue out to wet his lower lip and repeats more firmly, “Yeah, yes, that’s- shit, Eds, that’s perfect.”

Tipping the little bottle over to let the lube start to slowly trickle onto the pads of his outstretched fingertips, Eddie scans over Richie quickly, breath stuttering in his chest at the sight of his blown out eyes and the strained bulge in his boxers. “How do you want me to do this?”

“On top of me,” Richie replies instantly, curling a hand around Eddie’s waist and lightly trying to pull him closer, drawing him in. “Just like we were.”

For a moment, Eddie does not move, instead trying to weigh the scenario in his mind. The angle is a little off, and it will definitely be a little difficult, but it’s something he can manage. His only concern is Richie’s comfort, because if he’s not used to being stretched open like this, then Eddie doesn’t want the angle to become painful. Which is why, despite the fact that he’s still painfully hard in his boxers, he only meets Richie’s desperate gaze and asks, “Have you done this before?”

Richie snorts, head tipping back just enough to expose the already purpling love bites dotting his skin, lips drawn back in a wide grin. “Only every time I take a shower,” he says, smoothing a hand down Eddie’s back and finally succeeding in pulling him in, making him barely catch himself on his elbows with the bottle in one hand and lube covering the other. The response pushes an involuntary sound from Eddie, and now all he wants is to be there in the shower and see Richie fall apart at the mercy of his own touch. Richie kisses him quickly and murmurs, “C’mon, Eds. I’m a big boy. You can put your fingers in me however you want.”

 _“Fuck,”_ Eddie hisses out, carelessly closing the bottle of lube and tossing it to the floor before bracing his elbow on one side of Richie’s head to support his weight. He slots their mouths together in something spit-slick and vulgar, rubbing his lubed up fingers together to warm them as he thoughtlessly grinds down against Richie, partially to draw out that same hopeless little whine that Richie keeps making, but mostly to try and ease his own burning need so he can focus on what he’s about to do. About what he’s kind of been dreaming of doing for a very long time now.

“Please,” Richie gasps out after a particularly pleasant roll of their hips, letting his head fall back against the pillow and back arching again, giving Eddie the access he needs to once again trail his hand to the small of Richie’s back and dip his fingers under the waistband of his boxers. Even that’s enough to force some kind of punched out noise from the back of Richie’s throat, hips pushing back against Eddie’s hand with intent before pulsing upward for the friction. The next sound he lets out is more like a whimper, eyes scrunching shut and lips parting helplessly. “God, Eddie, _please—“_

Eddie shushes him with a brisk, almost innocent peck of a kiss, then trails his lips across Richie’s cheek, down his neck, around his jaw, before settling a final one just beneath his ear. He lowers his hand further until his middle finger is brushing over his hole, the muscle quivering beneath his touch, and Richie damn near sobs at the feeling. “I’ve got you,” Eddie assures him softly, airily, now circling his finger around his rim to spread the lube. “I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. I promise.”

The raw, guttural groan that Richie lets out is almost too much to handle, making Eddie pulse his hips against Richie’s at the same moment he slips the tip of his finger into the tight heat. After a shaky inhale, Richie goes back to saying Eddie’s name, over and over and over again, looking unable to stop the word from tumbling breathlessly past his parted lips. Eddie pushes his finger in deeper, going just slow enough to make sure Richie can comfortably adjust, until he’s to the knuckle and pulling it back out only to thrust it back in again. Richie pushes back against his finger with a loud whine, trying to take it deeper, breathing out, “Eddie, please, just- more, Eds- fuck!”

Eddie pushes in a second finger, pumping them in and out of Richie at a quicker pace, twisting and curling and scissoring them in a way that draws out delicious noises from the pit of Richie’s stomach. He hears the way Richie whimpers his name and it makes his head spin, hips rutting forward on their own accord as his fingers fuck into Richie harder. The angle of it is as awkward as be expected, wrist already feeling a little sore and uncomfortable, but he can’t be bothered to care about that when Richie tangles his fingers into the hair at the nape of Eddie’s neck and pulls him into a kiss that barely even counts as a kiss, rather just moaning and gasping against Eddie’s lips and stuttering his body forward and back indecisively, wanting to feel Eddie deeper inside of him but also wanting to have Eddie pushed tighter against him. Eddie is absolutely dizzy at the sensation, edging a third finger into Richie and chasing after the hot, bubbly feeling pooling in his lower abdomen. With his jaw slightly dropped and his breathing heavy, he tries to tell Richie, “I’m- Rich, fuck, I’m gonna—“

“Do it,” Richie responds, pressing his nose to the curve of Eddie’s cheekbone and using the hand not twisted in Eddie’s hair to clutch his waist and guide his grinding a little, just enough to make Eddie’s eyelids flutter. Breath fanning over Eddie’s face lightly, Richie meets his gaze and maintains steady eye contact as he says, “I want you to cum knowing that the next time this happens, it won’t be your fingers inside me, and we’ll be a lot more naked than this. I want—“ he cuts off with a sharp inhale when Eddie’s fingers graze over his prostate lightly, but he clenches his jaw and forces himself to keep talking, if only for the sake of having Eddie hear his words. Tone a little uneven and shaky, he somehow manages to choke out, “I want you to think about fucking me, Eds. Okay?”

“God, I want to,” Eddie groans, skimming featherlight kisses across the expanse of Richie’s jaw, too caught up in the moment to do much of anything else, the heat in his stomach growing in pressure, and he’s on the edge, he’s so _close—_

Richie turns his head, captures Eddie’s lips in a kiss that’s almost too sweet for a moment like this, and grinds back against Eddie’s fingers. When he leans back, he doesn’t go far, their noses brushing together, and he tells Eddie, “I’ve been dreaming about you since we were in high school, Eds.”

Eddie’s eyes flutter, but he forces them to stay open, to watch the way Richie looks at him as he speaks.

“I’ve dreamt about fucking you,” he goes on, bucking his hips forward to press harder to Eddie’s and making him mewl. “I’ve dreamt about you fucking me,” he adds, pushing back down against Eddie’s fingers, taking them as deep as he possibly can. He noses at Eddie’s cheekbone again, his face flushed and his gaze clouded with arousal, and he murmurs, “I’ve dreamt about sucking you off and I’ve dreamt about you eating me out, too, but I- I have other dreams, ones that aren’t just about sex, you know? I’ve dreamt about us buying a house together, and I once had a dream where you proposed to me and I woke up crying. I dream about you all the time, Eds. Every single night.”

Almost a little confused, Eddie stops his movements, but Richie continues to guide him, to bring their hips together over and over again. Breathlessly, Eddie lets himself be coaxed back into the grinding, looking at Richie with wide eyes and failing to come up with something to say.

Richie stares right back at him, and his eyes are watery again, his lower lip trembling slightly. The sight would be heartbreaking if it weren’t for the lustful flush of his skin and the glimmering adoration in his eyes. Trying to pull Eddie in closer despite there being no more space between them, he swallows roughly and says, “I love you, Eddie.”

“Fuck—!” Eddie snaps his hips forward once, and then comes hard, shooting into the front of his boxers and letting out airy little whines of Richie’s name. It isn’t until he starts to come down from his high that he is able to put his focus back on thrusting his fingers in and out of Richie, softly repeating little phrases until his breath – things like, “You’re amazing” and, “You look so beautiful like this,” and, “God, Richie, you don’t know what you do to me,” and, “I want to see you fall apart like this every day,” and, “I love you, too, Richie. So much.”

Watching Richie come undone feels like a blessing, Eddie thinks. He’s a little sensitive from his own orgasm, but he loves the way Richie loses himself as he rocks into Eddie’s pelvis and then immediately pushes back onto Richie’s fingers, his mouth agape and a few stray tears shining on his cheeks, noises coming out louder and higher with every passing moment. At some point, he starts babbling nonsense, incoherent murmurs of air and sound that’s impossible to decipher, until he clutches Eddie’s shoulder and rasps out, “Kiss me.”

Eddie does, perhaps a little hard, sealing their lips together and swallowing every moan, every whine, every shaky whimper that rumbles from the back of Richie’s throat, feeling Richie’s fingers tremble against him as he scrabbles for purchase, and he can detect the moment he falls over the edge, can tell in the way he clenches around Eddie’s fingers and groans so loud that Eddie’s almost positive that the neighbors had to have heard it, but he doesn’t care. He’ll take a noise complaint if it means he can see the way Richie pants against him, his eyes struggling to stay open and his breath catching.

“Eds,” Richie breathes, hips jumping up a final time before he falls back with a long, content sigh. He wiggles slightly, humming when he feels Eddie’s fingers still buried within him, and hoarsely murmurs, “Imagine how much better that would have been if you put your dick in me instead.”

“Next time,” Eddie promises with a huff of a laugh, slowly pulling his fingers out of Richie and snickering when Richie pouts at the loss. He kisses the pout away, but lingers there for a long time, not wanting to pull away.

Richie breaks the kiss eventually, and he has a dopey grin on his face as he looks up at Eddie, heart thundering in his chest. “I really do love you,” he says then. “Like, that wasn’t just a heat of the moment thing. I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since kindergarten.”

Eddie kisses him again, just because he can, and he says, “I _know_ I’ve been in love with you since kindergarten. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

“I’d be an idiot not to love you,” Richie grins.

“You’re an idiot anyway,” Eddie shrugs.

Letting out a dramatic gasp, Richie pushes at Eddie’s shoulder and rolls them over so that he’s straddling Eddie’s waist and glaring down at him playfully. “You can’t be mean to me,” he states, though his eyes reflect amusement. “You just made me cum _and_ told me you’re in love with me. I’m pretty sure calling me an idiot after that is illegal.”

Eddie shrugs again, lips tugging up in a smile that he couldn’t hide even if he wanted to. “What, am I gonna go to jail? I can be in love with you and think you’re an idiot at the same time. Besides, I never said that I’m not an idiot. Maybe we’re both idiots.”

“You’re not an idiot,” Richie response breezily. “You’re perfect. At least, in my eyes you are.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, Eddie places his hand on the back of Richie’s head and pulls him down to kiss him, and he hopes that it can convey what he wants to say – that, in his eyes, Richie is pretty fucking perfect, too.

**Author's Note:**

> k thx bye


End file.
